


forward

by preromantics



Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-30
Updated: 2010-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-14 06:07:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/146197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preromantics/pseuds/preromantics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Neal hides something in the bottom drawer of his desk and pockets the key; Peter knows he does, because he watches from where he's sitting in his own office, stuck on a file and watching the floor instead.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	forward

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 8/01/2010.

Neal hides something in the bottom drawer of his desk and pockets the key; Peter knows he does, because he watches from where he's sitting in his own office, stuck on a file and watching the floor instead. 

Usually the addition of a locked drawer to desks in their crowded office is a good thing. Right now, Peter wishes he had authority enough to get a key and look inside Neal's desk -- it could be something to do with the case, could be the stolen Queen Helen diamond, could be  _important_. (Peter doesn't think it's those things -- he trust Neal, more than he'd admit to most people, but he'll admit it to himself. However, it's a slow day, and Neal just walked away from his desk after locking something inside, smiled at Jones on his way to grab coffee, and acted like he didn't even know Peter was watching.)

Peter would bet a lot of money that Neal knew he was watching. Neal is nothing if not even more observant than Peter himself. 

Except he acted like he didn't; he didn't wink over at Peter through the glass, he didn't grin nice and easy, he just slipped his desk key into his pocket and went to get coffee.

Two cups of coffee, as it turns out -- Peter watches Neal walk back into the room with two cups and head up the steps to Peter's office. He grins when he sets the coffee down within Peter's reach, careful to avoid the papers spread out everywhere.

"It's slow today, isn't it?" Neal says, leaning his hip against the edge of Peter's desk. 

"There's a chair," Peter says, nodding towards it. 

Neal ignores him. "What are you doing Friday?" he asks, taking a long sip of his coffee. 

Peter thinks for a second -- Neal is trying to distract him, he thinks, which must mean whatever is in the desk is important. "Not much," he says, after a pause, "catch a game maybe."

Neal stares at him for a second and then tips his head back and laughs, once, short. "You're impossible," he says, and then turns and leaves as quick as he'd come.

It's not until Neal is settled back at his own desk -- he's grinning to himself, even though he has a mountain of paperwork piled up, which must mean he's  _really_  up to something -- that Peter remembers Friday is his birthday. He was distracted, it's not like he usually forgets things like his own birthday. Anniversary, maybe, El's birthday -- usually he remembers that. Neal always remembers those things, of course, which is less creepy than it is endearing these days. Peter needs a vacation. 

  
-

It takes two days for Peter to find an extra key to Neal's desk, by way of Diana -- although he doesn't tell her what it's for. 

It's only on Friday that Peter gets a chance to use the key, when everyone is out of the office. It's odd for everyone to leave at once to take lunch, but the silence is sort of nice, and it is Peter's birthday, so he'll take what he can get while being stuck at work still mulling over the diamond case.

Of course Neal catches him bent over on the floor, key in the lock. Peter jerks up when Neal laughs above him, and he hits his head on the top of the desk.

"Dammit," he says, not just because he hit his head. 

"It's obvious why you didn't go into my line of work," Neal says, easy, grinning down at him. 

"Work," Peter repeats, "I'm not sure that term really applies." 

Neal shrugs. "What are you looking for, exactly?"

"Whatever you hid," Peter says, because it's true, and also because Neal's still grinning, annoyingly so. 

"Well that's no fun," Neal says, mock-glumly, extending a hand to help pull Peter up. Peter takes it after only a moment of hesitation. "It's part of your birthday present, anyway." 

Peter levels Neal with a look. 

"We'll be late to your surprise-staff party," Neal says, ignoring him. "I was supposed to come and collect you, and I'll have to explain if we're late." He makes a thoughtful noise. "I'll also have to explain your head."

"My head is fine," Peter says, and he bends down quick to turn the key that's still in the drawer lock and open it. (It's not that he didn't believe Neal -- alright, he didn't really, not fully. It's his job to check, anyway.)

Neal only leans against his own desk and raises an eyebrow at Peter when Peter comes up with a black box. 

Neal shrugs at him, once, and Peter opens it. Inside is a mug, plain white, with  _World's Best FBI Agent_  on it in black lettering. Peter stares at it. 

"It's only part of your gift," Neal says. He pauses. "You don't like it." His voice draws down. He's still grinning, though, when Peter looks up. Peter rolls his eyes. (He can already tell he'll be drinking coffee out of it at home for the foreseeable future.)

"I love it," Peter says, sort of surprisingly honest, but Neal just takes the mug from him and sets it down. 

"Come on, before Diana files a missing persons report on you. I don't think she believed me earlier when I said I wouldn't kidnap you for your birthday," Neal says. Peter doesn't want to know the details of that conversation came up. 

"Hey," he says, when they are halfway to the elevator, turning to Neal. "You know I --"  _trust you_. 

"I have my doubts sometimes," Neal says, cutting Peter off, not even needing to hear the part about trust. Sometimes -- not all the time -- Peter is glad Neal can read him so well. "But I know."

Peter nods, once, and lets Neal punch in their floor. When Peter turns to him, Neal's smile is still there, but different. He grins back at him, a little self-conscious, but pleased nonetheless. "I do like the mug," Peter says, as the doors ding open to at least half the city agency -- hey, they all like an excuse from work for an office party, even Peter is guilty of that. 

"I thought El would enjoy it," Neal says, letting Peter lead the way out. "I wanted it to say,  _Neal's Favorite FBI Agent_ , but I thought that might be too forward for the office sink," he adds, voice lower, smile still there.

"Forward," Peter repeats, letting Jones clap him on the back as he walks towards the cake -- hopefully from Neal's well-cared for business endeavor. "Yeah."

"It would've been true, though," Neal says. And that, Peter believes.


End file.
